Now That I've Grown Up
by Kidcomfy
Summary: A teenager's view of the police, and the traumatic event that influences it.


Disclaimer: Don't know if I really need one but Faith belongs to the producers of Third Watch.  
  
"Now That I've Grown Up"  
  
My name is Melissa. I'm seventeen and I just got my drivers license. I saved up as much money as I could working minimum wage and then my dad kicked in the rest, and I got a used runner of a car. Life is good. I had just gotten off work and it was after nine o'clock. I had made plans to go pick up my girlfriend Cathy when she gets off work. She is a waitress in her uncle's diner in another borough. She gets off at ten, and if I take the main roads, I won't get there till ten thirty. So I took the short cut through the 'bad' section of town. My life changed that day.  
  
My parents would shit if they knew I took the short cut, but me and my friends go through there all the time. A few times, a group of us drove through with super soakers and hosed down the junkies and the bums passed out on the sidewalk. We never hurt anybody, and they could really use a good hosing down, so I figured we did them a favor.  
  
I decided to call Cathy and tell her what time I'd be there to pick her up, and as I started to dial, a cop pulled out behind me. Crap. It's illegal in New York to talk on a cell phone while you're driving. Unless you use a head set. Do you know how queer people look wearing a head set? I put the phone down quickly, hoping this cop behind me didn't see it and try to pull me over. I watch in the mirror. There are two cops in the car, a female driving, and a male riding, and they seem to be talking to each other. They didn't notice the phone. Phew.  
  
I've gotten ticketed for that once already. My parents said they will take the phone away if it happens again. I hate cops. Don't they have better things to do than hassle me. Like I've committed some felony. I've also been pulled over for not wearing a seat belt. Another major crime. And I got stopped for speeding in my dad's car once. His inspection was expired. So the cop ticketed me for that instead, because it was the more expensive of the two offenses and he said I'd learn more of a lesson if it cost me money. I'm just a driving crime wave.  
  
I don't know why any one would want to be a cop. Everyone automatically hates you. Oh sure it appears to be a cool thing to do. Car chases, shoot outs, exciting, right? But in reality they spend their day looking for people like me to bother. You never see them at a shoot out. You always see them on tv after someone has been killed, saying they don't have any leads or any suspects. They only direct traffic and write tickets.  
  
Whenever me and my friends are down at the park hangen out, they always have to stop and hassle us. Did I mention that I hate cops? They nose around our coolers to see if we are drinking. They check us to see if we are holden drugs. And, so what if we like the occasional doobie. We aren't drug addicts, and we aren't hurting anyone. Why don't they bother the people that are, that's all I'm sayen.  
  
This cop is still following me. I always feel guilty when a cop gets behind me. Even when I'm not doing anything wrong. I guess that's another reason why I don't like cops. They make me nervous.  
  
Finally, they turned off. Of course, they turned just before I entered the 'bad' section. They don't drive through here. If they spent more time patrolling this neighborhood, bothering these criminals, I could drive through here with no worries, and I wouldn't have to lie to my parents about what route I take to pick up Cathy.  
  
Anyway, I pick up the cell phone and dial the number for Cathy at the diner, but I dialed wrong. So, I hang it up. I glance up at the light that I'm approaching, and cool, it turned green. I don't like to stop in this neighborhood. I glance over at my door locks. Shit, I forgot to lock my doors. Oh well, I don't have to stop at this light anyway so I'll lock them after I call Cathy. I dial the number again, and this time I pay careful attention to the numbers I push. And that is when my life changed.  
  
I'm just approaching the intersection. I lift the phone to my ear and then I hear this horrible sound. It is the combination of a horn blowing and tires squealing, and I don't even have time to look over when I hear the deafening explosion of metal slamming metal. And as my car bucks to the right, my body is slammed by the door that seemed to wrap it's self around me. Then there was another explosion of metal, and the back of my car came roaring up at me, grinding the front of the car, with me in it, under a huge black mound of metal and glass. I could feel my lower body being chewed up in it as I screamed myself into darkness.  
  
I don't know how long I've been here, but I'm awake now, and I realize that something is terribly wrong. I can't move and I can't tell if I'm feeling so much pain that it has numbed me, or if my lower half is just gone. It is dark and I am covered with glass. I try to talk but only a moan comes out. I start to remember what happened, and now I am terrified. I try to move and suddenly I find out that my lower half is truly there. The pain is excruciating and I even found my voice as the pain causes me to scream as hard as I can.  
  
I am fully aware now of what happened. And where I am. And the chances that someone will find me in this neighborhood are pretty bad. Or worse, the people that may find me are pretty bad. And then suddenly I hear something. It sounds like someone is bending the twisted metal. Thank God, someone is going to get me out of here. I didn't hear any sirens but help is here and I call out so they can find me in this coffin of metal and glass.  
  
I hear the passenger door creaking and popping, and glass sprays at me as someone pulls the door open. I open my eyes to find myself face to face with an old black homeless man. I am crying and through the blur I see him grab my cell phone. I think at first that he is going to call 911, but he puts it into his pocket. Then someone pulls him out of the car. I hear voices arguing, and thank God, someone is really here to help.  
  
Another face crawls in, and this person is a younger man. He starts grabbing my cds, my sunglasses, and my makeup bag. I find myself telling this person that I need help. He stares at me, keeping eye contact, as he rummages through my things that are splayed through the wreckage. I can't believe this. No one is gong to help me. He finds my purse, which he throws over his shoulder, then he climbs farther back into the wreckage.  
  
I begin screaming for help, but I am crying and I don't think I am loud enough to be heard. Then another face pokes in through the open door. This is a filth covered old woman. I cry to her for help. She mumbles something about help is coming. She reaches in and takes my hand. I start to feel relieved, even though the tears are flowing hard now. Then I realize that she is not holding my hand, she is removing my jewelry. Son of a bitch. I scream harder now. I figure the next face that pops in is going to kill me, as if I wasn't about to die here anyway, while these bastards, strip me of everything I have.  
  
Then I hear it. It is like an alarm going off to wake me from this nightmare. It is a police siren, and it sounds wonderful. I hear it very close now, and as it stops, all these creatures of the living dead scatter away from me. I yell for help so they can find me. Thank God, the cops are here.  
  
Within a few minutes, another face crawls into my tomb with me and it is a female officer. The relief I feel flows out of me in tears and words as I babble about how glad I am that she is here. She is talking very calmly, I guess so that I will calm down, and her voice is very soothing. And I do feel calmer. She takes my hand and asks me my name and I tell her.  
  
She says, "Melissa, everything is going to be alright. The ambulance is coming. I don't want you to try and move until they get here." Then she starts to back out of the car and I don't let her. I hold on to her hand as hard as I can. I even beg her to stay with me. Don't leave me alone. She says, "I'm not leaving you, I'm right here." Then she says something to someone outside of the car and she pulls in a blanket. She crawls in with me again, and covers me with the blanket. She says, "My name is Faith." And I think how appropriate, as she tells me again that everything will be alright.  
  
We waited there for what seemed like hours. She kept talking to me and asking questions. How old was I. Did I have a boyfriend. She told me she had a daughter a little younger than me. She told me it's ok to scream, and I did. She gently cupped my face with her hand every time I cringed from the pain. And wiped the tears from my cheeks, telling me I'd be ok. Just hold on a little longer. Don't fall asleep. I felt very safe now, as we waited together for the ambulance to come.  
  
That was seven months ago, and I survived the accident. And after extensive physical therapy, I'm almost normal again. That cop saved my life. Oh I know the paramedics and the doctors, did the actual, physical saving, but I was scared to death that night. I was never so terrified and in need of someone to be there. And there she was. And if I ever run into her again, I will hug her and thank her, and tell her how much she changed my life.  
  
In a few months I start at the academy. Did I mention that I'm gonna be a cop? -Now that I've grown up. 


End file.
